DIRTY STUFF

ANDY was fond of the lunatic soup. Partial, you could say, to a glass or three of the cold local amber, often rapidly followed by three or four more, with an inner warming glow spreading like a bushfire from the first double nips of his Bundy Rum chasers.

Saturday arvo was always Andy’s drink-to-me session at the Regency pub. It was an easy three short clicks through the back streets to where he parked the Cusso, shared house with his wife and looked after the dog,